Details he loved
by Viltti
Summary: "She sat down, pulled the sit closer and, Frederick watched carefully whether she still did that, ran her fingers lightly cross the keyboard like making sure they were all there." Oneshot.


"Details he loved"

It was one of those many nights Frederick spent in Uppercross. He really did not even know why he was there; he did not enjoy the company of Louisa Musgrove that much. But still he find himself going there day after day, and day after day also Anne Elliot was there. Of course she was as her sister was Louisa Musgroves brother's wife and Anne had no other place to go. And after spending so many nights and days with Anne, Frederick had got used to her company although he did not seek for it. But this evening he surprised himself looking at her more than once.

Anne sat on the corner of the room; she was in her deepest thoughts. Frederick looked how she still ran her finger through the figure of her lips just like she had done eight years ago. In those thoughts she looked somewhere so far, in some unknown world where even he could not break into back then. In those thoughts Anne's eyes got a look of someone who knew to much of pain and sorrow to be so young. Frederick remembered that look even though he did not see those eyes right now. He kept thinking whether there was still that same look or how much it had changed through those years.

Sophy walked cross the room to Anne and Frederick saw how her eyes and thoughts came back. She put her hand quickly down and hid it into the pleat of her skirt. She looked down, closed her eyes and opened them looking up again. That same moment as her eyes opened her lips turned into a smile. Frederick remembered how Anne had always looked down before smiling, like she would have been to shy to smile while looking into someone's eyes. He turned to look back at Louisa again, whose eyes might have been bright and joyful, full of life and expectations, but there was a lack of something which Frederick could not find a word to.

He gave meaningless answers to Louisa's meaningless questions and find that he was looking across the room once again. He saw how Anne laid her hand on Sophy's arm; first the top of petit fingers and then slowly rest of the palm. Anne bent nearer to Sophy and said something. They turned to look at the Admiral, who was standing on the front of the bookshelf, then back to each others and laughed. Frederick could not hear what they were speaking of but he did hear Anne's laugh. He heard the tone of it, how it rose up and circled around the room. That laugh still got it what her voice had lost. A willingness to live and love, laugh and dance. He knew Anne hide it from her voice, especially when talking to him, and he found how sorry he was about that.

Then Louisa bent to him and asked whether he also wanted to hear some music, whether he would ask Anne to play something.

- Music would be just fine, he answered. – But I believe Miss Elliot does not prefer to play right now.

Anne was still talking with Sophy. She moved her right hand while talking, slow, elegant movements gave just the right touch her words what ever they were. Frederick knew that as well. He knew that when Anne found a company to talk so freely to she did not want to stop it. But Louisa of course did not listen to him.

- Oh Anne! she exclaimed. – We all would like to hear you play us something, do we not, Captain?

Feeling sorry he was asked to agree he only said:

- Only if there is not too much trouble, Miss Elliot.

He reached her eyes and for a second or even less they looked into each others eyes but then Anne turned quickly away, stood and walked to the pianoforte. She sat down, pulled the sit closer and, Frederick watched carefully whether she still did that, ran her fingers lightly cross the keyboard like making sure they were all there. Only after that she took the notes and started to play.

The longer she played the more it was shown how much she really loved playing. It was like she would have her life from the notes. One of her curls, still too short to be kept up, ran away from her topknot and drop front of her eyes. She tried to shake it away once or twice but let it be then, just like she did when she was sewing or gathering the flowers. The curl danced while Anne's fingers did their magic on the keyboard. She looked up, straight at him, and Frederick could see her eyes in they full shine. They were as deep as ever, maybe even deeper, and Frederick could read the hidden agony in them. At the first time in his time in Somersetshire he really saw Anne like he had seen her years ago. The girl, who wanted to love and be loved, ran down the hill, dance in the rain and pick up blueberries. Where had she been hiding, he wondered and thought then whether she had been there all along and he had been just too blind to see her. Anne blinked and looked down to the notes.

Frederick stood up and thought to walk to her but changed his mind and went to the window. He looked his picture on the cold glass, the candlelight on the back. He had been foolish thinking so ill of Anne. That woman over there, playing the piano, was as she had ever been. Frederick just had not seen it, not before now, not even when they fist knew each other. This woman was noble, kind, sweet natured, gentle, loving and caring, she had a mind of her own but she did not use it wrongly. Had she done wrong back then? To him maybe, but to herself? Frederick looked the picture of her on the window. She had stopped playing, choosing other notes. He turned around and watched her wrists movement when they turned the pages. His heart bounced. Had he done wrong as getting angry, forgetting to think of her view? As he thought what had been said back then he remembered how much there had been sense in Anne's words. Maybe she had not done as wrong as he had felt. Maybe she had been right all along.

Anne started to play again. Once again Frederick noticed that he was the only one to really listen her playing. And while looking at her playing he noticed that there still was that same beauty in Anne, the beauty that had lived once, the beauty Frederick thought to be gone forever. He saw the shadow of it in Anne's cheeks, in the bows of her lips, it gloomed throw her skin, it was shown in her walking, in the tone of her voice. Nay, the beauty was not gone, it was hiding as well, too modest and shy to come out. It needed someone to call her. Anne would need tome sea-air, he thought looking at her. Fresh air, the wind, sound of waves, screams of sea-eagles, that all would do her so good.

He kept thinking how would he get her to the seaside. And when Harry Harvilles letter came the day after that night it was like an answer to his prayers.


End file.
